Spiral
by Mikells
Summary: It has been 6 months since Aizen's defeat. Ichigo has lost his powers and is living a normal life. But Uryū and Chad are soon faced with a new problem when Orihime starts to act strangely. Calling their friend Rukia back from the Soul Society, together the group endeavors to discover why Orihime is acting out.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

She stared at the terrifying creature across the short span of desert between them; the one that had saved her life once or twice in the time she had spent here in this world, destroyed by the one she loved, the one that had saved her, protected her, many more times. And she wasn't entirely sure she could account for all of the emotions that forced upon her.

In a way, the slain had earned some degree of respect from her, some amount of pity; she sympathised with him, despite how he had locked her away.

It didn't matter that he had kidnapped her on the orders of his master. It didn't matter that he wasn't human, wasn't _good_ in the purest sense of the word. It didn't matter that his taking her from the World of the Living had been no more than a ploy to entrap and kill those closest to her. All that matter to her in that instant was that he had saved her live when others of his kind had tried to take it.

She took a step forward, unblinking. But it wasn't enough. His existence was already fading from the world. The large, black, leathery wings that sprouted from behind pale, bony shoulder blades were already dust in the wind. His feet were likely gone, and his legs up to the knees. He turned his head toward her, tearing his gaze from the orange-haired opponent that had bested him. The green orbs that were his eyes were decorated with yellow spots and black, slitted pupils; heavy lids gave him the appearance, but only the appearance, of sleeplessness. Long, ivory horns sprouted straight up from his mess of dark hair, twisting slightly in its elevation.

For some reason, she felt the compulsion to take in everything about him. Though she did not care for him nearly as much as she cared for the victor, she did feel some regret that it had come to this. She felt a lot of regret. That his usually emotionless face held just the slightest glimmer of something this time only fanned at that guilt, made it hurt more.

The corners of his mouth were turned down more than was usual for his normally bland expression. His eyes were completely unblinking; searching, almost. His brow was pulled upward a little, as if in sadness.

She wasn't sure if he actually felt sadness. For as long as she had been a prisoner in this wasteland world, she had never seen him express any emotion. The way he talked, it seemed to her that he didn't even understand it. Indeed, even when he had been fighting, he hadn't shown any sign of hatred towards his foe or any extreme determination to see him dead. It was as though he was doing as much as was expected of him; knowing he could do no more and no less, and that he was fine with that.

She chanced a quick look over at the orange-haired victor; bloodied and bruised as he was, standing off on his own as well, he too stared at the dying Espada with something akin to pity, or regret. Could he, too, see that glint of something akin to emotion that had finally reached the Arrancar? Was it possible that he couldn't see it? And if he couldn't why show such pity? It had been a long time since she had seen him express any sympathy for any variant of Hollow.

She quickly looked back to the Arrancar, watching as he stretched his right arm out towards her. "So; let me ask you again, girl …" he started. "Are you afraid of me?"

She looked down at his hand, her own clasped before her, and then back up into green and yellow eyes that suddenly seemed to be pleading. She didn't need any time to think of her answer, even if he had the time to give her. He had asked it of her before, in Las Noches prior to his fight with Ichigo, and she had even then answered it without hesitation. She had told him no, and she had explained why. And he had mocked her.

Now; it seemed, to her, that he was not willing to die without knowing if that was still true. After what he had done. After he had killed Ichigo right before her very eyes, trying to shatter her by tearing from her the very person upon whom she had put all of her hopes of rescue.

"You're just in time. Watch closely. Here is the man to whom you've entrusted all your hope. Bear witness as his life comes to an end."

It had been so unbearably cruel of him. And yet, it was entirely within his character to have done it. Despite his blandness, something about her had clearly troubled him for as long as he had been her warden. He had tried again and again to understand her frailties, her weaknesses, while trying to explain his own way to her.

But she hadn't bought into it one bit, and that only seemed to spur him into further acts of emotional barbarism. For someone that didn't feel, nor understand, emotion, he wielded it like a skilled swordsman wielding a powerful _zanpakut__ō_.

So his final act of deliberately waiting to end Ichigo's life until she could witness it was entirely within his character. And yet, despite that, she still could not find it within herself to hate him. She just pitied him all the more.

"No. I'm not afraid," she told him in a half-whisper. He blinked, trying to ascertain if she told him the truth. "Really; I'm not," she assured him.

And, indeed, she was not. She did not fear him. She did not hate him. She was grateful to him for being her protector, even if he only did it because his master required her to be living for his trap to be successful. And she pitied him for the way he felt—or, rather, didn't feel. And she was sad; sad to see him go, sad that she had been put into the position of thinking of him as an enemy when under different circumstances they could have fought on the same side.

He didn't quite smile at her words. But the corner of his mouth twitched upwards, as though he felt the emotion that backed a smile, but his muscles didn't recognise it enough to follow through. It tore at her heart to see that. Why could he not have given in to it?

"I understand," he said.

Orihime Inoue took another step towards Ulquiorra Cifer, watching as his failing body continued to crumble into ash. She reached out, her fingers barely brushing the tips of his. In that briefest of contacts, she felt the coldness of his emaciated skin. A tear spilled down her cheek as she watched his fingers become ash at that small touch, followed by the rest of the arm, creeping up to his shoulder.

And then he was gone; his entire body no more than ash blown towards the everlasting night time horizon of Hueco Mundo, leaving her and Ichigo standing there, watching.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

_**Orihime**_

**Six months after Aizen's trial**

It was a normal day at Karakura High. Students were seated at desks, listening to the teacher standing at the front of the room by the blackboard. Notes had been scribbled on the board as part of the day's algebra lesson. It was sunny out, with not a single cloud in the sky. And Orihime Inoue was gazing.

The object of her gaze, one Ichigo Kurosaki, former Substitute Soul Reaper, sat at his own desk two down and one over to the left of her. His chin rested on his open palm, and his head was turned so that he looked out through the window at the courtyard below. His orange hair was like flames in the bright sun streaming through the window. And though she could not see his eyes, Orihime guessed that they were probably glazed over.

She knew he'd been thinking a lot lately of the days when he had still been a Soul Reaper. She knew that he missed his pseudo-job of hunting the Hollows that made their way into the World of the Living to feast off fresh souls. She knew that he missed his friends from the Soul Society, of whom he would never see again unless they took up a _gigai_ while in their world.

He did not have his powers anymore. They'd started to dwindle, little by little, day by day, ever since he defeated Sōsuke Aizen in Karakura Town while it had been in the Soul Society. He had, like their friend, Uryū Ishida, had once done when they had all first ventured into the Soul Society to rescue their Soul Reaper friend Rukia from her own people, willingly sacrificed his powers in order to defeat his enemy.

Ichigo had called the technique the Final Getsuga Tensho—final in that using it meant pouring into it every last ounce of spiritual pressure he possessed or ever would possess. His decline had been steady from that point. He might even still have some of his powers if he hadn't needed to use them in their conflict with the rogue Soul Reaper scientist, Kagerōza Inaba. But, Ichigo being Ichigo, he wasn't the type of person that would just sit back and ignore that she was in need of their help—whether she wanted it or not.

He hadn't been the same in the months since. But even that had grown to be a normal part of the day. Sure, he put on the appearance of being fine, but was he really, Orihime thought to herself often. He laughed and joked with his friends as much as he had before he had become a Soul Reaper, he got into as many fights as ever, he still spoke to her and the others.

Except for Chad. But that wasn't for lack of trying. Chad wouldn't even look at him.

But she could tell that he missed her. Missed Rukia. And could she blame him? No, she couldn't. She missed Rukia too. Their Soul Reaper friend hadn't been seen nor heard from since the day Ichigo's powers had finally faded and he'd said goodbye to her. Orihime was sure that part of the reason for that was that Rukia could not see the point of sticking around when her closest friend in the World of the Living could not see or hear her. Either that, or she was strictly adhering to orders, and those orders were keeping her a way.

If she was unbiased about it, Orihime had to consider that it was perhaps a little of both. And she didn't know how she felt about that. After all, Rukia hadn't even seen fit to say goodbye to any of the rest of them. Only Ichigo. And then she had been gone.

Despite the fact that Ichigo still spoke to them, things had grown a little awkward. Uryū had taken to hunting Hollows in the former Substitute Soul Reaper's stead; often rushing out in the middle of class when he sensed a Hollow nearby, shouting excuses to the teachers that let him go only because he was a model student and they couldn't conceive that he would lie to them. It was a sight Orihime still wasn't quite used to, despite the fact that it had been going on for some time now. Uryū was a good man, and strong besides. She knew he could do the job as well as Ichigo. It was just a strange thing to see him rushing off when Ichigo was the impulsive one.

Otherwise, the two had gotten on better than they had ever before. They still had the occasional argument when one of them became pig-headed, but their arguments now were on normal, everyday topics. Uryū understood Ichigo a little better now, and vice versa. Both of them had, at one time, given up their powers in order to defeat much stronger opponents, and thus each of them had come to some conclusion that they were more alike one another than they had noticed previously.

Ichigo had tried to reach out to Chad a few times, but those attempts were for naught. The larger teenager had not only not spoken much to Ichigo, but would not tell either Uryū or Orihime why he was avoiding him.

Orihime had a few theories as to why. The most likely being pride. She knew that Chat still cared deeply for Ichigo as a friend; none of that was diminished. But she thought it was because of how powerless their friend now was. Ichigo had always been the front man of the group, the first to rush into fights against Hollows, would-be executioners, rogue Soul Reapers, Arrancar, empowered humans. Now he wasn't involved at all, and Chad, possibly more than the rest of them, clearly understood just how much that hurt their friend.

Orihime and her friend Tatsuki Arisawa still talked quite a bit with him. Tatsuki, while not empowered like Chad or Uryū or Orihime, knew everything. She had been wide awake and walking around Karakura Town when Sōsuke Aizen and his lacky, Gin Ichimaru, had been wandering around looking for slaughter. She had seen Ichigo arrive, sword in hand, bankai and all, challenging Aizen to a fight to the death. A fight neither of them had finished to that degree.

But they both kept things from Ichigo, much as Uryū did. The three of them, and Chad too when he felt the obligation to speak, knew that they couldn't discuss the spiritual world around Ichigo anymore. Not only because they could see he was finally leading the normal life he had wished for since he had first started seeing spirits, but because they knew just how dangerous his having that information could be.

They knew him well enough to know that, were he aware of their goings on, he would so selflessly throw himself in the way of any dangers they were put in. He would try to help them, even though he no longer had the power he needed to do so.

It was one of the reasons Orihime Inoue loved him. She had always harboured feelings for Ichigo Kurosaki, keeping those feelings locked up much as she still did. But it wasn't until she had spent time with him, agreeing to accompany him in his mad rush through the Soul Society to rescue Rukia, fighting against the Bount threat, and then the arrival of the Arrancar in the World of the Living, that she had finally come to terms with how she felt for him. Had he been conscious when she had said her goodbyes to him before being taken to Heuco Mundo by Ulquiorra, he'd have heard her declaration.

As it stood; he hadn't. And, so, she continued to keep those feelings to herself for the time being, not knowing how he would handle it, if he felt the same, if he didn't. There were too many uncertainties for her to take the risk, and she valued her heart too much to even consider it.

As she watched him, he continued to stare, oblivious to her, out through the window. She could barely make out his reflection in the glass. He sighed suddenly.

"Miss Inoue?"

She jumped at the suddenness of having her name called and turned to the front of the classroom. The teacher was looking right at her; frowning behind square spectacles, he pointed to a notation on the board he had obviously just written up and wanted her to complete. Quickly, she scrambled through her books for the correct page, narrated what she found there under the correct section, and then ducked her head to hide half of her face behind the open book.

"Thank you, Miss Inoue," the teacher said crisply after a moment. A few people closer to the front of the room snickered amongst themselves. "Next time, please do keep your head in the class, and not out of the window. The same goes for you too, Mister Kurosaki."

Heat and colour flooded into her cheeks at the slight rebuke. At least, she thought to herself, he was merciful enough not to call me out in earnest in front of the class. Ashamed, she hid the rest of her face behind the book.

She felt something connect with her right ankle. It wasn't obvious, but it was enough to grab her attention. She looked to her right to see her best friend, Tatsuki, making obvious swoon-faces at her—she knew what Orihime had _really_ been looking at. Orihime waved her to silence and turned back to the teacher as he started writing up new stuff on the blackboard.

Tatsuki had changed a little, too, in recent months, Orihime reflected. Her hair now came down to where her shoulders met her neck, tied at the base. The top and front was still kept stylishly messy though, so it wasn't a drastic change. It looks good, though, Orihime thought. She had started wearing school uniform dresses in place of the pantsuit she usually favoured. She still acted like such a tomboy, and was still a karate enthusiast, but she was starting to at least _look_ more feminine.

The school bell rings after another ten minutes of class, and everyone at once starts sliding books and pencils into their packs.

Orihime set about organising her books before she put them away; pencil clasped loosely between her teeth and her brow furrowed as if in thought. She usually left classes with Tatsuki and Ichigo after everyone else had already filed out, so taking her time was tactics, rather than tardiness.

"So," Ichigo asked, approaching her from the left, "what was that?" His pack is already in hand by his side. His hair was as messy as ever and his eyes, if they had been glazed over at all, were at least normal now.

"Huh?" Orihime offered.

"You not paying attention in class," he clarifies, half-mocking. "That's not exactly like you."

"Oh, you know." She sighed. "Just me being an airhead. It happens a lot. I just think about certain things and my mind goes wandering and I get lost up here, you know?" She rapped the side of her head with the knuckles of her left hand for emphasis.

"Certain things, eh?" Tatsuki teases, nudging Orihime's side with an elbow and grinning.

Blushing a little, Orihime waves her to silence again.

"What kind of things?" Ichigo enquired.

Seriously? Orihime asked herself. Why does he have to ask that? Now I have to tell him a lie. If only he knew, I know he wouldn't have asked. He knows it hurts me to have to lie to my friends, especially to him.

"Oh, you know; just what I'm going to have for dinner." She held up a finger and grinned like a lion eyeing a particular tasty antelope. "I've got this idea to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with celery, steamed rice, and wasabi sauce." In truth, she had already decided on that after making breakfast. But she needed something believable to tell him.

"Sorry I asked," Ichigo replied, visibly cringing.

She grinned again, well aware that her tastes in food were somewhat eccentric to those of her friends. Tatsuki had painstakingly tried to get her to eat what she considered to be normal meals. But Orihime was far too fond of experimenting with new things to swing that way. In her opinion, food was always so much better when it was an experiment.

"You're both welcome to come around and try some," she offered, looking side-to-side for their responses.

"Uh …" Ichigo screwed up his nose. "No thanks, Orihime. Maybe next time."

"Tatsuki?"

"Yeuck!" Tatsuki added for emphasis.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_**Uryū**_

Uryū relaxed his fingers, and the flow of _reishi_ that made up the string of his bow snapped forward, launching the arrow that was similarly comprised of _reishi_. The arrow arced around to the left slightly and struck the Hollow in the right arm—a large mass of bulging, dark flesh that was more like a club than an arm.

The Hollow howled its displeasure and spun in the air to face him. It bled from the hole in its arm caused by the arrow. The glowing red eyes set into the dark sockets of the monster's ivory-white mask narrowed to slits and it charged forward, much like an arrow itself—albeit, an arrow with the mass of a pile of cannonballs.

As quick as the thought occurred to him, Uryū gathered his spiritual energy beneath his feet and shifted out of the way. The Hollow didn't see the movement in time, and crashed through the after image it thought was the real thing.

Uryū readied his bow again, bringing it up and peering through the gaps in the web to sight his target. He poured more _reishi_ into the bow this time as he pulled back on the string, slotting three arrows along three different sight lines. He adjusted for wind shear, target movement, his own movement. Then he relaxed his fingers and let the _reishi_ string snap forward again.

Three arrows were launched simultaneously toward the target. All of them arced in slightly different directions; one went higher than the last, while another went further out to the left. The third shot went dead centre. All three impacted the Hollow; one through the eye and out the back of the head, one in centre mass, and one in the hand on the other, less club-like arm.

The monster screeched its final death scream before it dissolved into spiritual fragments and vanished, never to bother anyone ever again.

Uryū reached out with his spiritual senses. When he sensed no other Hollows nearby, he clamped down on his spiritual pressure and flicked his wrist. The bow sizzled and disappeared, and the Quincy Cross hanging from a chain around his wrist left his hand to dangle by his side.

He gathered his spiritual pressure beneath his feet again and, in an instant, his _hirenkyaku_ had taken him to the ground behind a large plum tree that had just started to bloom.

He sighed. That particular fight hadn't taken much out of him, honestly, but it had caused him to miss another lesson at school. When he'd sensed the Hollow's appearance, he'd instantly raced out of the room almost fast enough to burn the rubber soles of his shoes, calling over his shoulder about needing to go to the bathroom.

Uryū wouldn't be entirely surprised if the whispers started soon. For months now, he'd been dashing out of class with that lame excuse, rarely, if ever, returning before that class finished. People were bound to start comparing him to how Ichigo had been during his Soul Reaper days, or start spreading rumours about his having health problems. He didn't mind the latter as much as the former. The idea of being compared to a Soul Reaper—even one who was no longer a Soul Reaper—was repellent.

That wasn't to say that he didn't respect, even _like_ Ichigo. After all, he did have some redeeming qualities. There just wasn't as many of them as there were detrimental ones.

"Is it gone?" The intruding voice was deep, reverberating. It caught Uryū off-guard and he spun to face the newcomer … then quickly took a step back.

Yasutora Sado, who more commonly went by Chad, was not your average sixteen-year-old high school student. He was taller than everyone else at the school. His olive skin gave away his foreign origins. A mess of dark brown hair covered his head and came down over his left eye, obscuring it from view. Recently, stubble had started growing on his chin—the beginnings of what could one day become a very distinguished goatee.

And yet, despite the size and bulk of the seemingly brute-like young man, Chad was rarely one to fight. While true that he fought Hollows without reservation, and fought to protect others often at his own expense, common fights against other non-threatening, unpowered humans were not something he engaged in. According to Ichigo, Chad often took to standing still in such situations and letting others pummel on him without swinging back himself.

Personally, Uryū couldn't grasp that concept. If someone took a swing at him, he was more like than not to swing back. If it was a human, they would receive his fist or his boot. If it was a Hollow, they would get an arrow to the face. He was not so meek as to let others whale on him without defending himself.

But then, perhaps Chad had been brought up that way, Uryū reasoned. Or perhaps events in his life had shaped him that way. Perhaps he had been more free with his fists in his youth, and, as he grew older, had come to realise that such freedoms were often more costly than they were worth.

"It's gone," Uryū said, flexing his fingers and then dropping his hand down by his side. He could feel the last of the summoned _reishi_ slipping behind his control and he clamped down tightly on it, ready to release it the instant it was needed again. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Just seeing if you needed help," Chad replied, looking away to the west. He was still being evasive about this subject. Uryū highly suspected that Ichigo had something to do with that. Much had changed when he'd lost his powers.

"As you can see," Uryū replied smugly, "I'm doing just fine. Thanks for the concern." He added the last statement somewhat bitterly, taking it only as a slight insult that Chad would even consider that he _might_ require help. Truth be told, he was perhaps more capable of dealing with Hollows than the others. His bow had more power than Chad's armoured arms or Orihime's hairpin creatures.

Chad grunted his noncommittal response. That was just his way. Then, without another word, he just turned and started off in the direction in which he lived.

Incensed, Uryū caught up to him. Frowning, he asked, "What is the real reason you're out here. You know full well I can handle Hollows. Are you lonely? Do you need someone to hold your hand? Well, I have news for you, Chad: I'm not it."

Chad grunted again and inclined his head towards Uryū. "That's not it," he said softly.

"Then out with it," Uryū instructed. "I have homework to catch up on."

They walked along in silence for a few moments. This was Chad's way, Uryū knew. He would take a minute or two to think of the best way to phrase what he was thinking, and then another minute or two to decide whether or not to actually speak it aloud. He wasn't always like that in conversations; only when the subject was a particularly delicate one, one that he had a deep investment in.

"Ichigo," he said.

"Are you speaking to him yet?"

Again, Chad grunted his reply. Uryū took that to mean "no". Of course, he wasn't exactly surprised by that. Chad could be just as stubborn as Ichigo, even if he did seem more subdued—which, in fact, he wasn't. And while Uryū didn't know his large friend's reasons for avoiding the former Soul Reaper, he wasn't one to hold it against him.

"Do you think he'll ever get his powers back, Ishida?" Chad asked unexpectedly.

"Hmm …" Uryū had to think about it.

While true he didn't know as much about Soul Reapers as, say, Rukia—who in fact _was_ a Soul Reaper—he had never heard of any way one of them could be given their lost powers. Ichigo had managed it once, but only by means of an unexpected loophole.

The first time he had lost his powers, it had been because Rukia's older brother, Byakuya, had shattered his Soul Chain and Soul Sleep. But the powers he had taken from Ichigo had been Rukia's, not Ichigo's. And Ichigo had been trained by Kisuke Urahara until he had been able to unlock his own Soul Reaper abilities. It was those that had been stripped from him as a result of the Final Getsuga Tenshō.

Perhaps Urahara knew of a way to restore Ichigo's powers. But then, if he had, would he not have shared that information with any of them?

No. Absolutely not. That wasn't Urahara's way. Kisuke Urahara never shared information before the fact; typically, he would "remember" to explain after he had done something or after they had all witnessed something he had known was going to happen. Such a trait, while annoying, might have served him as a squad captain in the Soul Reapers' Thirteen Court Guard Squads, but in the World of the Living where he did far less compared to the rest of them, it was naught more than infuriating.

Mind, Uryū had to give him points for the fact that, when Orihime had been kidnapped by the Arrancar, Urahara had come straight to him to tell him that as well as the fact that Ichigo would soon be heading to Heuco Mundo on his own to rescue her.

Though, Urahara leaving explanations until later than they were needed was a far cry from saying he wasn't proactive. He always prepared for situations ahead of time. It was just the timing of his explanations that left room to be desired.

Still, it was perhaps foolish to assume that because Urahara hadn't mentioned any such thing to them, that he hadn't at least already explored the possibility of returning Ichigo's powers. Uryū guessed that he had, and had so far come up with nothing. Or perhaps he had come up with a solution, but was waiting until Ichigo made it clear that that was what he wanted. Or perhaps he had found a way and was keeping it to himself for the purpose of keeping Ichigo out of trouble.

Uryū smiled. That was a likely truth. Ichigo was strong—stronger than the rest of them, if the outcome of his battle with Aizen was any indication. But he also had a tendency to rush into things head on. His abilities had flaws; he was hopeless at _reishi_ manipulation, and barely competent in sensing the spiritual pressure of others unless they made it obvious. He was reckless, arrogant, selfish.

Dangerous.

"I don't know, Chad," he said honestly. "Mister Urahara hasn't volunteered any information on that front."

"Mm …"

"But then, he wouldn't exactly just volunteer that information." They walked as they talked. There was a common point a few blocks away where they would split and go their different directions. Until then, Uryū was just going to have to tolerate the conversation with his brutish friend.

"Speaking of …" Uryū replied. "I've noticed you've been a lot stronger, a lot quicker. What's the go with that? Are you training at Urahara's shop again?"

"No," Chad replied. He didn't elaborate, however, which left Uryū wondering about it.

Chad _had_ grown much stronger. He was once more on par with Uryū's level of strength, whereas he had been noticeably behind after their return from Heuco Mundo. Though, he had unlocked yet further abilities—namely, his left arm becoming a far more powerful offensive weapon than his right, which was now more of a shield than a weapon.

But somehow, despite the fact that Uryū had been growing steadily stronger by training and hunting Hollows, Chad had somehow caught up to him. His spiritual pressure was surprising, to say the least. Uryū was convinced that he was receiving training from someone, and that that someone was probably Kisuke Urahara, who had provided him with a place to train prior to their trip to the Hollows' world.

But Chad had just denied that. So who could possibly be training him? Renji Abarai was in the Soul Society, and Ichigo had no powers.

"Who, then?"

Chad didn't reply.

_Fine_, Uryū thought to himself moodily. _Keep it to yourself. See if I care._


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

_**Orihime**_

_The reishi platform they stood on sped up at phenomenal speed. The wide hole blasted in the domed ceiling of Las Noches was much wider than the area of the rising platform of spiritual energy, and the grain of the stone was dizzying when she tried to watch it pass, so she stopped._

_Instead, her eyes became unfocussed as her mind became more focussed. She could think of only one thing._

_Ichigo. She had to reach Ichigo. She had to save Ichigo._

_She had a feeling that he was in trouble. Some unknown voice in her head, that was only a personification of her own fears, screamed for her to make it topside as soon as she could. Ichigo needed her help, it told her. Ichigo needed to be saved._

_Stone stopped abruptly and became the cool, dark air of the Heuco Mundo desert. As soon as the platform was clear of the makeshift shaft, she leapt from it._

_Her feet were already moving when she hit the sand. She ran, ran without thought, ran on instinct._

_In the distance, atop a tall, thick, ivory tower, was Ichigo. Though from the distance, she could make out no details, she could just tell. It felt like Ichigo's spiritual pressure. Ulquiorra was with him, but he was different; great, black, leathery wings sprouting from his back._

_As she drew closer, she could make out more. A long, thin tail—Ulquiorra's tail—was wrapped twice around Ichigo's neck, holding him still in front of the Arrancar. She stopped a few dozen meters from the tower, looking up, straining her neck to see._

"_So, you've come," the bland, emotionless voice of her Arrancar warden started. "How nice."_

"_No! Ichigo?" she whispered._

_From what little she could see, Ichigo was out of strength. He hung in the tail's grip as useless as a doll from a child's hand. His arm hung limply at his side, his _zanpakutō_ barely clutched in his fingers. She gasped. She had never seen him so beaten before._

"_You're just in time," the Hollow-man said. "Watch closely."_

_His hand came up, finger pointed at Ichigo, bare centimetres from his chest. "Here is the man to whom you've entrusted all your hope. Bear witness as his life comes to an end." A ball of dark spiritual energy, black with a slight blue-green glow, gathered at the tip of Ulquiorra's finger. It grew, and grew, until it was three times the size of her balled fist._

_She knew what it was. Cero. The signature spiritual attack of the Hollows. But this one felt vastly more powerful, even stronger than the one Grimmjow had used—much stronger than that. The glow fluctuated._

"_No!" she screamed. He wouldn't. He couldn't. Why would he do this? Not to her. She had been good._

_The Cero released, releasing streams of energy in every direction after it hit its target. Dust and chips of stone flew in every direction; she couldn't see if it had hit him or if he had dodged at the last instant._

_When the dust cleared, she suddenly found herself wishing that it hadn't. Ulquiorra had shifted Ichigo closer to the edge of the tower. In the centre of Ichigo's chest was a glowing white circle._

_No._

_That was the moon _behind_ Ichigo. The fresh hole blasted through his chest made it visible to her._

No,_ she thought to herself in a panic. _No, no, no, no, no. Ichigo has to live. Ichigo can't die. HE CAN'T DIE!

_With a whipping motion, the Arrancar's tail was free of Ichigo's neck. The body was flung from the edge. His lifeless eyes were wide and staring as he plummeted down the side of the tower to the desert below._

"_NOOOOOOO!"_

Orihime woke with a bloodcurdling scream tearing up her throat and escaping her lips.

She stopped herself short when she realised she was awake, clamping her mouth shut and squeezing her eyes tightly to block out the images from her nightmares.

There was a glass of water by her bedside. She picked it up and gulped down its contents in one go. Her throat had been so raw from the screaming. The water made it feel a little better, but she would probably be a little hoarse for the rest of the day.

Six months since the events of her nightmare had happened. Six months. Why were they still plaguing her?

She consoled herself with the fact that at least she was not having the nightmare every single night. But still …

She slipped out of bed and padded across the room to the light switch. Flicking on the light, she looked around. Everything was in place. Her sheets were a tangled mess. Her pillows were damp with sweat. The empty glass sat on the bedside table.

She pressed a hand to her racing heart, willing it to slow down.

"Ichigo's not dead," she told herself. "Ichigo's not dead. He's alive. Ulquiorra was defeated. I'll go to school today and Ichigo will be there with his head down and his pencil scratching."

The quiet mantra helped to convince her a little. Her heart slowed some. Her breathing levelled out. She squeezed her eyes tightly again and willed an image into her mind of Ichigo from yesterday—smiling one of his rare smiles after the class in which the teacher had caught her distraction.

_Ichigo's smiles are lovely,_ she thought.

Unbidden, the image flashed across her mind of Ichigo on the sandy ground of Heuco Mundo; flat, a hole through his chest nearly as big as her head, his lifeless eyes staring skyward as Ulquiorra swatted away Uryū's attacks some distance away, distracted from keeping her away from Ichigo's body.

She stamped the image down with the image of smiling Ichigo again and took a deep breath to steady herself.

Then she went over to her desk and started to write.

"Dear Diary …"


End file.
